


Always Something There To Remind Me.

by taker1



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Feels, M/M, Slash, The Adventure of the Empty House, slight AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-07
Updated: 2012-10-07
Packaged: 2017-11-15 20:37:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/531431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taker1/pseuds/taker1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John finds it hard to carry on after Sherlock's suicide but Sherlock is always there to remind him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Always Something There To Remind Me.

'Hello'  
'Sorry to call so early John'  
'Lestrade?'  
'Yes, don't you look at your phone to see who's calling?'  
'Not when I'm half asleep!'  
'Ok, ok. We've got a good one for you.'  
'Go ahead.'  
'Two men shot in a locked room. No sign of forced entry, no one else in the room.'  
'So they shot each other, why call me?'  
'The door and window were locked from the inside and there was no weapon. We thought you could use Sher....' Lestrade stopped talking, he knew how much it upset John to think about what happened. He'd only forgiven him for doubting Sherlock the previous month. 'Sorry.'  
'Fine.'  
'John, I had no idea what Moriarty was up to'  
'You didn't have to, just like you didn't have to think that Sherlock was capable of every crime he solved!'  
'Yeah.'  
'Right. I'll be there as soon as I can.'  
'Thank you John.'  
'Oh and Greg.'  
'Yes.'  
'Don't you ever mention his name again. I may have forgiven but I will NEVER forget what you did and what it led to.' John could feel the tears starting again so he got the address and hung up.  
He sat on the end of his bed, he hadn't had the heart to move out of 221b, not that Mrs Hudson would let him go anywhere else. It hurt so much to be here, expecting to walking down the stairs from his room and see Sherlock standing over some body part, as excited as a child at Christmas that an experiment had solved an unsolveable murder. That would never happen again. He would never again have the pleasure of seeing Sherlock smile, not the fake smile that most people see but the true smile. The smile that meant the world to John, more than he had realised. He took a deep breath. No tears, not yet. There was work to be done. He got dressed, left a note for Mrs Hudson and left. He had found that he too did this type of thing better when he was hungry. Sherlock had said that so many times but he'd never believed him, even though he believed in Sherlock so totally. 

The crime scene wasn't far so John decided to walk, loving how after 3 years he could walk through the streets of London anonymously again. No one even glanced at him. His therapist said it wasn't good for him to be locked in his own world but John just wasn't ready to share his thoughts. He hadn't updated his blog since the day after, there wasn't really anything to say any more. Nothing happened to him just like before. As he turned the corner he saw a man watching the police coming and going. He stood out as he wasn't just rubber necking like the rest of the street. He seemed to be counting how many went in and how many came out. The man turned and glared at John, he smirked and nodded as if he knew John then left. John took a moment before he approached the house, trying to remember if he had seen that face before.  
'Come on John, you can figure it out.'  
'I can't Sherlock. He seems so familiar but.....'  
'Familiar, yes he is.. How's Mycroft?'  
The file Mycroft showed me! His picture was in there!'  
'Good, good John. Now keep going, visualise the paper in front of you. Have you done it? Have you got it?'  
'Yes. Sebastian Moran.'  
'Did you say something Sir?'  
John jumped, he still expected to see Sherlock standing next to him, even though he never was.  
'No, no officer. Is Inspector Lestarde here?'  
'Yes sir, are you Doctor John Watson'  
'Yes.'  
'Thought I recognised you. Right this way.'  
The young woman led John in to the average 2 storey London town house. Lestrade was waiting for him upstairs.  
'Thanks for coming John.'  
'So where is it?'  
'In here.'  
The room was minimally furnished, a bed, a desk against the opposite wall. The walls had been painted white a long time ago and were now had a yellow hue. There were blood spatters on the wall where the desk was. The bodies of the two men were facing each other on the floor at the bottom of the bed. John took the room in. Then he heard the voice again, his voice again.  
'You remember how to do this John, just like the others.'  
'Don't just look, observe.'  
'Good. Now what do you observe.'  
'The 2 men are facing each other. They knew each other as there was not force used, they were arguing and shot each other.'  
'No John, come on, think. If that had happened then the gun would be here.'  
'Oh yes.'  
'Now don't just observe the room. What about the surroundings, outside.'  
'The gun couldn't be outside as the door was locked from the inside.'  
'Yes but what if the assassin wasn't in the room?'  
'The window isn't broken so the shots must have been in here.'.  
'Come on John, you know what to do.'  
'Sherlock I don't. Not any more.'  
'Don't give up. Observe the room again, what isn't right?'  
John took in the whole room again then he noticed it.  
'The air vents. The air vents have large cracks in them but no one could hit two men through that small a gap.'  
'Some one could.'  
'Who?'  
'You've already seen them.'  
'I have?'  
'Yes John. Not just today.'  
'MORAN!'  
'Sorry, what did you say?'  
John was standing right next to Lestrade, no Sherlock in sight. He knew that would happen but it still broke his heart when it did.  
'The shooter is Sebastian Moran. He's a hired assassin, worked for Moriarty. More than likely these two owed him money or something.'  
'How the hell?'  
'He's a crack shot, some say the best shot in the world, and if you look at the air vents they have cracks. Test the cracks and you'll find evidence of gun shots then all you have to do is connect the victims to Moran.'  
'Thank you John.'  
'You're not taking his word are you Sir?'  
Shut it Anderson!' John had him pinned to the wall. 'Don't think I have forgotten what you said at the inquest. Before Sherlock's phone evidence was played. I am so glad that he recorded Moriarty's confession, just to see the look on your face when you were proven wrong!.' John let go. 'Now Anderson, do your bloody job properly!' John stormed out of the house and marched back to Baker Street.  
'He's following you.'  
'Thank you Sherlock, I had noticed.'  
'So what are you going to do about it?'  
'What can I do? If he's going to shoot me I can't stop him. Anyway, wouldn't be the first time I'd took a bullet.'  
'Yes but this one would be fatal.'  
'So?'  
'You're too important to die.'  
'You were too important to die and it didn't stop you did it.'  
'I had no choice but you do.'  
'No, I've made my mind up. If I die then so be it, I'm not going to live in fear or hiding. At least I'll be with you.'  
'What? I didn't know that you're religious.'  
'I'm not, what I meant that if I die then I don't have to live without you.'  
'Don't do this John'  
'See you soon Sherlock.' John turned on to Baker Street, span on his heels and began to shout. 'COME ON THEN MORAN, YOU KNOW YOU WANT ME DEAD, WELL LETS GO!' He saw Moran on the opposite side of the road, pulling a gun from his coat. He took aim and John held his breath, he was ready for this misery to end. As Moran pulled the trigger John was knocked to the ground by a man running by. 'Watch where the hell you're going!' John checked himself, no wound. Shit. He looked around for the idiot who barged him but he was gone. Moran too. Mrs Hudson ran in to the street.  
'What's going on John, I thought I heard a gun shot!.'  
'No, erm, just a car back firing.'  
'Oh, well then. I made you pie as you didn't have breakfast and I did some washing for you.'  
'Thank you Mrs Hudson but you're not my housekeeper.'  
'I know dear but I didn't have much to do this morning so it was no hassle. Come on inside.'  
John sat chatting with her for about an hour then made his way back upstairs. He used to look forward to climbing these stairs but now each one was an uphill battle. The flat just wasn't the same without him, John's life wasn't the same without him. He missed Sherlock, more than he could say out loud so he kept it in his head. The conversation he'd wanted to have with Sherlock for a long time but never had the chance. He lay on the couch and closed his eyes.  
'Sherlock.'  
'Yes John.' Said Sherlock, sitting in his usual chair, his head resting on his fingers.  
'I need to say something to you.'  
'Go ahead.' He turned so his full attention was on his constant companion.  
'Ok, here goes. I love you Sherlock. I've been in love with you for a very long time but I've never been able to tell you.'  
'I know John.'  
'You know? How long have you known?'  
'I noticed the change in behaviour. Your pupils would dilate if I was near you, your pulse would elevate and the most obvious thing.'  
'Being?'  
'That I love you too.' Sherlock moved over to the couch, cupping Johns head in his hands. 'It's been driving me to distraction feeling like this and not being able to do anything about it.'  
'But you could have.'  
'Shhhh.' Sherlock pressed his lips against Johns.  
'John, there's someone here to see you, wouldn't give a name but he's most insistant on seeing you.'  
John opened his eyes, all a dream.  
'Tell him to come on in then Mrs Hudson. Thank you.'  
The man who entered 221b was a dirty looking, presumably homeless man. John thought he may have been one of Sherlock's Homeless Network who hadn't heard the news.  
'What can do for you?' John motioned for the man to sit but he remained standing.  
'I wanted to apologise for knocking you over earlier, most clumsy of me.'  
'Oh that was you. Please think nothing of it.'  
'No, no I should have been looking where I was going.'  
'Really it was an accident.'  
'But.' The man coughed. 'Could I have a drink of water please?'  
'Of course.' John went to the kitchen, filling a large glass with water. 'Are you sure you just want water, I could make you a cup of tea.'  
'Water will be fine, thank you John.'  
The voice that travelled across the flat sent shivers down John's spine, the velevt tones that could be both reassuring and threatening in the same sentence. The voice that John had only heard in his head for 3 years. He turned. 'Sherlock?' Everything went black as John felt himself fall against, then slide down the kitchen cabinet.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not really sure if this is gong to be a one shot or not, what do you guys think? All comments welcome (it's been a long time since I've written anything so I probably need them!) Many thanks.


End file.
